Lightweight
by Mighty ANT
Summary: A younger Finn McMissile faces the consequences of allowing Leland Turbo to rope him into another one of his harebrained challenges. -Oneshot- Rated to be safe


**Lightweight**

_A __younger Finn McMissile faces the consequences of allowing Leland Turbo to rope him into another one of his harebrained challenges. _

_~Cars 2 ©PIXAR 2011~_

* * *

Finn didn't know how he let Leland talk him into this.

On one of the rare days C.H.R.O.M.E.'s Spy Academy allowed its hundred plus students the freedom to roam through the surrounding towns, the young Aston Martin found himself roped into coming to a small pub in Surrey, in the dead of winter no less. The air was so frigid that it was a wonder his engine didn't freeze over. And with snow nearly five feet deep, it hadn't exactly been a picnic for Finn as he and the rambunctious Jaguar trudged through the flurry with a group of about ten other trainees. It was a long way from the Academy, or at least one of its various buildings. No one knew where C.H.R.O.M.E.'s original training compound resided, and it was said that only the highest-level agents were told.

But now, the Aston Martin found himself constantly badgered by his friend as he froze his aft in the snow.

Upon arriving in the pub, the other agents-in-training had made a beeline for the bar counter, scaring the living daylights out of the poor old Volkswagen bus serving as bartender.

Several orders were placed, and Finn found solace in the momentary silence that followed the clinking of glasses, stationing himself at the same circular table as Leland. The Jaguar had a drink of his own in tire, from which he took a long swig of ale before looking him over appraisingly. His iris-colored eyes were sharp, and the Aston Martin cursed his forgetfulness—the more Leland drank, the wiser and more observant he became, rather unlike the other cars around them, who would most certainly have to be towed back to the Academy.

After a moment, the Jaguar spoke. "You don't have a drink, Finn," he patronized, an eyelid raised. "They taught ya' how to drink in that posh mansion of yours, didn't they?"

The Aston Martin's eyes narrowed at his younger companion, mentally questioning the gods as to why they had given him the ability to somber with the assistance of alcohol. "Yes, they did," he said finally, pursing a lip slightly. "And no, I don't have a drink. Firstly, I don't want one, and second, I'd rather not have my sorry aft towed back to base."

Leland shrugged dismissively, taking another long swig from his mug,"eh. You wouldn't be the only one."

Finn only rolled his eyes. Once again, the Jaguar had failed to see the big picture. If he got into any trouble in this town, Finn would be held accountable as one of the eldest in the group. Leland was already in deep with his instructors—one more slipup and he'd find himself kicked out of the Academy and back wherever it was they'd found him in a second flat. There was even a rumor going around that they wiped the minds of those failed students, so that if they were ever caught in the treads of the enemy, they would have no information to give, despite any possible torture.

"C'mon, mate!" Leland prodded, shoving him with a tire. "None a' the ladies are gonna want someone who can't drink!"

Finn's answer was deadpanned. "Well perhaps I don't want a 'lady'."

The Jaguar only rolled his eyes with an amused chuckle, "you poor, poor bloke…those instructors have blinded your male needs." Finn only breathed a heavy sigh, attempting to stave off the engine-ache he knew was soon to come. Leland perked suddenly, rising on his tires. The Aston Martin didn't like the mischievous look in his eye one bit.

"Eh, everybody!" all cars present turned, curious and expectant, everyone used to the Jaguar's abrupt and ridiculous plans. He was well known for playing pranks on nearly everyone in their training sector, even instructors. Curious enough, certain trainers actually valued his stealth as being able to do this. Others made him run the obstacle course twenty more times.

Leland smirked widely once he had garnered everyone's attention, "drinks on me if Finn agrees to a little…contest."

The Aston Martin's eyes narrowed as he recollected his last 'contest' with the Jaguar—he had ended up with dents coating his frame and a shattered headlight. Nonetheless, shouts reverberated through the pub then, and eyes turned towards him, clearly incessant.

Finn rolled back uncertainly, catching his companion's proud smirk and sent him a glower in return. Leland didn't even flinch—if anything, his smile grew wider. There was clearly no backing out of this.

The Aston Martin sagged defeatly,"alright," he groaned, eyes clenched shut, as if opening them would confirm that this wasn't some sort of nightmare. "Alright, I'll do it…you bloody pack of vultures."

Leland grinned, waving the bartender over, "one round over here, if you will. And keep 'em coming!"

The Volkswagen nodded tiredly—he had calmed down sufficiently since the trainees had arrived—and casually coasted over to their table, two mugs of ale balancing on his side tray. The bulky vehicle maneuvered easily through the small spaces, finally placing the drinks on their table, mumbling, "make sure ta' pay when you're done," before driving back to the counter.

The Jaguar smirked, lifting his own mug with practiced ease. Finn was a bit more cautious. Leland waved his drink airily, grinning, "Bottoms up."

Finn narrowed his eyes, but lifted the rim to his lips nevertheless.

* * *

When Finn McMissile finally regained consciousness, there was a throbbing pain in his engine block, as if someone was playing the drums on his hood, he was only half-awake and the interior of the pub was in shambles. Tables were overturned, other cars unconscious and several windows were shattered, allowing the icy wind to enter. Around him were there remains of his own table, and he had the magnetic covering over his tires, though he didn't remember deploying them. He couldn't remember much of anything really.

Sound returned to him then.

He heard Leland chortling nearby, and turned to see the Jaguar nearly falling over from his laughter, a recording of something playing over the miniature device he kept in one of his fog lights. It was him. Singing. Horribly.

The Aston Martin clenched his eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the pain, wincing at both the ache in his engine and the furious shouts of his superiors over his communicator.

Once he was stable again, he was going to _throttle_ Leland.

* * *

_**A/N: I have created an entire personality for a character that was only seen for about 60 seconds 0_0**_

_**This was a bit of a reference towards 'Collision of Worlds'- if you've read it, you will understand ;)**_

_**Reviews are love :T**_


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